Earlier, before Ãcariya Mun and
Ãcariya Sao began wandering through the region to
enlighten people about the nature of moral virtue
and to explain the consequences of their actions and
beliefs, the worship of spirits and ghosts had
become endemic in the Northeast and a common aspect
of everyday village life. Whether it was planting
the rice, putting in a garden, building a house, or
making a shed, an auspicious day, month, and year
had to be determined for the start of every
endeavor. Before any type of work could begin,
propitiatory offerings were routinely made to
placate the local spirits. Should those ritual
offerings be neglected, then the least untoward
thing –
a common cold or a sneeze –
was attributed to incurring the disfavor of the
spirits. A local spirit doctor was then called in to
divine the cause and pacify the offended spirit.
Doctors in those days were much smarter than they
are today: they unhesitatingly declared that this
spirit, or that ghost, had been wronged, claiming
that a certain offering or sacrifice would cure
everything. Even if the supplicant was hacking and
sneezing long after offering the prescribed
oblation, it made no difference. Back then, if the
doctor declared you cured, you were, and you felt
relieved despite the symptoms. This is the reason I
can so boldly assert that both the doctors and the
patients of that era were very smart: whatever the
doctor declared was final, and the patient accepted
it without reservation. It was unnecessary to search
for medical cures, since the spirit doctor and his
ghosts could cure everything.

Later when Ãcariya Mun and Ãcariya
Sao passed through these areas, reasoning with local
inhabitants, and explaining the principles of truth,
their preoccupation with the power of spirits and
the agency of spirit doctors gradually waned. Today
it has virtually disappeared. Even many of the
spirit doctors themselves began taking refuge in the
Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha in place of the various
spirits and ghosts they had been worshipping.
Nowadays, hardly anyone engages in such occult
practices. Traveling from village to village in the
Northeast today, we no longer have to tread our way
through offerings laid out for the spirits as we did
in the past. Except for the odd group here or there,
spirit worship is no longer an issue in people’s
lives. It’s
truly a blessing for this region that people no
longer have to live their whole lives clinging to
these beliefs. The people of the Northeast have long
since transferred their faith and allegiance to the
Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha, thanks largely to the
compassionate efforts of Ãcariya Mun and Ãcariya Sao
to whom we all owe an immense debt of gratitude.

DURING HIS TIME IN THE REGION,
Ãcariya Mun taught the local people, applying all
his strength and ability to render them as decent
human beings. He passed through some villages where
the local ‘wise
men’asked him questions. They asked
questions such as: Do ghosts really exist? Where do
human beings come from? What is it that causes
sexual attraction between men and women, since they’ve
never been taught this? Why are male and female
animals of the same species attracted to one
another? From where did humans and animals learn
this mutual attraction? Though I can’t
recall all the questions he was asked, these I do
remember. I accept blame for any inaccuracies in
what is recorded here as my memory has always been
somewhat faulty. Even recalling my own words and
other personal matters, I cannot avoid making
mistakes; so my recollection of Ãcariya Mun’s
stories is bound to be incomplete.

To the question “Do
ghosts really exist?”Ãcariya Mun’s
reply was: “If
something truly exists in the world, whether a
spirit or anything else, it simply exists as it is.
Its existence does not depend on the belief or
disbelief of anyone. People may say that something
exists or doesn’t
exist, but whether that thing actually exists or not
is dependent entirely on its own nature. Its state
does not alter according to what people imagine it
to be. The same principle applies to ghosts, which
people everywhere are skeptical about. In reality,
those ghosts that frighten and torment people are
actually creations of their own minds. They’ve
come to believe that, here and there, dwell ghosts
that will harm them. This in turn causes fear and
discomfort to arise in them. Ordinarily, if a person
doesn’t
mentally conjure up the idea of ghosts, he doesn’t
suffer from a fear of them. In a majority of cases,
ghosts are just mental images created by those who
tend to be afraid of them. As to whether there
really are such things as ghosts in the world –
even if I were to say that they do exist, there is
still not enough proof to make skeptics into
believers, since people have a natural tendency to
deny the truth. Even when a thief is caught
red-handed with stolen articles, he will often
refuse to admit the truth. More than that, he’ll
fabricate an alibi to get himself off the hook and
deny any wrongdoing. He may be forced to accept
punishment due to the weight of the evidence against
him; but, he will still continue to protest his
innocence. When he is imprisoned and someone asks
him what he did wrong to deserve that punishment, he
will quickly answer that he was accused of stealing,
but insist that he never did it. It is rare for such
a person to own up to the truth. Generally speaking,
people everywhere have much the same attitude.”

To the question “Where
do human beings come from?”Ãcariya Mun’s
reply was:“All
human beings have a mother and father who gave birth
to them. Even you yourself were not born
miraculously from a hollow tree. We all obviously
have parents who gave birth to us and raised us, so
this question is hardly an appropriate one. Were I
to say that human beings are born of ignorance and
craving, this would cause more confusion and
misunderstanding than if I gave no answer at all.
People have no knowledge whatsoever of what
ignorance and craving are, although they are present
there in everyone –
except, of course, in the Arahants. The trouble is
people are not interested enough to make the
necessary effort for understanding these things, so
that leaves the obvious answer: we are born of our
parents. This then opens me up to the criticism that
I’ve
answered too briefly. But it is hard to give a reply
which goes to the truth of the matter, when the one
asking the question is not really much interested in
the truth to begin with. The Lord Buddha taught that
both people and animals are born of avijjã paccaya
sankhãra…
samudayo hoti. The ceasing of birth, which is the
cessation of all dukkha, stems from avijjãya tveva
asesavirãga nirodhã sankhãrã nirodho …
nirodho hoti. This condition is inherent within the
heart of each and every person who has kilesas. Once
the truth has been accepted, it becomes clear that
it’s
just this which leads to birth as a human being or
an animal until the world becomes so crowded one can
hardly find a place to live. The primary cause is
just this ignorance and insatiable craving. Though
we haven’t
even died yet, we are already searching for a place
to be born into where we can carry on living –
an attitude of mind that leads human beings and
animals all over the world to birth and constant
suffering. Anyone wishing to know the truth should
take a look at the citta that’s
full of the kind of kilesas which are frantically
looking to affirm birth and life at all times. That
person will undoubtedly find what he’s
looking for without having to ask anyone else. Such
questions merely display a level of ignorance that
indicates the inquirer is still spiritually
inadequate. The citta tends to be the most unruly,
conceited thing in the world. If no interest is
taken in reigning it in, we will never become aware
of how really stubborn it is, and all our noble
hopes and aspirations will come to nothing.”

What is it that causes the sexual
attraction between men and women and animals of the
same species, since they’ve
never been taught this? Ãcariya Mun replied:“Rãgataõhã
is not to be found in any book, nor is it learned in
school from a teacher. Rather, rãgataõhã is a
stubbornly shameless condition that arises and
exists in the hearts of men and women, causing those
who have this vulgar condition to come under its
spell and become vulgar themselves without ever
realizing what’s
happening. Rãgataõhã makes no distinction between
man, woman, or animal, nationality, social status or
age group. If it is strong it can easily cause
disaster in the world. If there is insufficient
presence of mind to restrain it and keep it within
acceptable limits, sexual craving will become like
runaway floodwater, overflowing the banks of the
heart and spreading out to flood towns and cities,
leaving ruin everywhere in its wake. Such a
condition has always been able to thrive within the
hearts of all living beings precisely because it
receives constant nourishment and support –
things which give it the strength to assert its
suffocating influence continuously, sowing havoc and
causing misery throughout the world. We hear only
about floods occurring in towns and cities, and how
they cause destruction to people and their
belongings. No one is interested in noticing the
flood of rãgataõhã engulfing the hearts of people
who are quite content to let themselves and their
belongings be ravaged by those surging floodwaters
all year round. Consequently, no one understands the
real reason for the on-going deterioration of world
affairs because each and every person is
contributing to and encouraging this situation by
failing to recognize that rãgataõhã is directly
responsible for the worsening situation. If we do
not focus our attention on the real cause, it will
be impossible for us to find any genuine sense of
contentment.”

The original question asked only
about that aspect of rãgataõhã concerning the
attraction between people, completely ignoring the
destruction instigated by rãgataõhã through hatred
and anger. But in his explanation Ãcariya Mun
touched on the full range of detrimental results
stemming from rãgataõhã. He said that it is
rãgataõhã which dictates the passionate urges of
men, women, and all the animals, facilitating the
pleasure they find in each others company –
this is a principle of nature. Nothing other than
this gives rise to mutual affection and mutual
animosity. When rãgataõhã uses its deceptive tricks
for passionate ends, people fall in love. When it
uses its deceptive tricks to bring forth hatred and
anger, they inevitably hate, get angry, and harm
each other. Should it wish to control people using
love as a means, then people become so attracted to
one another that there’s
no separating them. Should it wish those same people
to fall under the influence of hatred and anger,
then they’ll
feel an irresistible urge to do just that.

Ãcariya Mun asked the lay people
present: “Haven’t
you ever quarreled among yourselves? You husbands
and wives who have been in love since before you
were married? You asked me about it, but you should
know a lot more about this matter than a monk does.”
To this they replied: “Yes,
we’ve
quarreled until we are sick of it and never want to
again, but still we have another argument.”

Ãcariya Mun then continued: “You
see, this is the very nature of the world: one
moment there’s
affection, another moment there’s
friction, anger, and hatred. Even though you know it
to be wrong, it’s
hard to correct. Have you ever seriously tried to
correct this problem? If so, it shouldn’t
happen very often. Even a minimum effort should be
enough to keep it under control. Otherwise, it’s
like eating three meals a day: in the morning you
quarrel, in the afternoon you quarrel, and in the
evening you quarrel –
regularly around the clock. Some people even end up
in divorce, allowing their children to become caught
up in the conflagration as well. They are innocent,
yet they too must bear the burden of that bad kamma.
Everyone is affected by this blazing fire: friends
and acquaintances keep their distance due to the
shame of it all. Assuming both parties are
interested in settling the issue, they should be
aware that an argument is a bad thing, stop as soon
as it starts, and make an effort to correct it at
that point. The matter can then sort itself out so
that in the future such problems don’t
recur. For instance, when anger or aversion arises,
first, think of the past you have shared together;
and then, think of the future you will share living
together for the rest of your lives. Now compare
this to the malice that’s
just arisen. That should be enough to lay the matter
to rest.

“Mostly,
people who go astray do so because they insist on
having their own way. Without considering whether
they’re
right or wrong, they want to personally dominate
everybody else in the family –
something which just isn’t
possible to achieve. Such arrogance spreads and
rages, singeing others until everyone is scarred.
Even worse, they want to exert their influence over
everyone else in the world, which is as impossible
as trying to hold back the ocean with your hands.
Such thoughts and actions should be strictly
avoided. If you persist in them, they will bring
your own downfall. People living together must
adhere to and be guided by equitable standards of
behavior when dealing with their husbands, wives,
children, servants, or co-workers. This means
interacting with them in a reasonable, harmonious
way. Should others not accept the truth, it is they
who are at fault for being so unreasonable, and it
is they who will pay the price –
not those who adhere firmly to guiding principles.”

ON THOSE OCCASIONS when Ãcariya Mun
had to teach large numbers of lay supporters, as
well as the monks living with him, he would allot
separate times for giving instructions. He
instructed the laity from four to five p.m. He
taught the monks and novices from seven p.m.
onwards, at the end of which they returned to their
huts to practice meditation. He tended to follow
this routine on his first and second tours of the
Northeast. On his third and final trip, after
returning from Chiang Mai to Udon Thani, he changed
this routine considerably. Rather than disrupt the
sequence of events, I shall explain the adjustments
he made later.

Ãcariya Mun’s
chief concern was teaching monks and novices. He
took a special interest in those students
experiencing various insights in their meditation by
calling them in for a personal interview. It’s
quite normal for those practicing meditation to have
varying characters and temperaments, so the types of
insights arising from their practice will vary
accordingly –
although the resulting cool, calm sense of happiness
will be the same. Differences occur in the practical
methods they employ and in the nature of insights
that arise during meditation. Some meditators are
inclined to know only things existing exclusively
within their own minds. Others tend to know things
of a more external nature–
such as visions of ghosts or devas, or visions of
people and animals dying right in front of them.
They may see a corpse carried along and then dumped
right in front of them or they may have a vision of
their own body lying dead before them. All such
experiences are beyond the capability of beginning
meditators to handle correctly with any certainty,
since the beginner is unable to distinguish between
what is real and what is not. People who are not
inclined to analyze their experiences carefully may
come to a wrong understanding, believing what they
see to be genuine. This could increase the
likelihood of psychological damage in the future.
The type of person whose citta tends to go out to
perceive external phenomena when it ‘converges’
into a state of calm is quite rare –
at most, about one in twenty people. But, there will
always be someone in whom this occurs. It is crucial
that they receive advice from a meditation master
with expertise in these matters.

Listening to dhutanga monks as they
relate their meditation results to Ãcariya Mun, and
hearing him give advice on ways to deal with their
experiences was so moving and inspirational that
everyone present became thoroughly absorbed in it.
In explaining the proper method for dealing with
visions, Ãcariya Mun categorized different types of
nimittas and explained in great detail how each type
should be handled. The monks who listened were
delighted by the Dhamma he presented, and so gained
confidence, resolving to develop themselves even
further. Even those who did not experience external
visions were encouraged by what they heard.
Sometimes the monks told Ãcariya Mun how they had
achieved a state of serene happiness when their
hearts ‘converged’
into a state of calm, explaining the methods they
had used. Even those who were as yet unable to
attain such levels became motivated to try –
or to even surpass them. Hearing these discussions
was a joyous experience, both for those who were
already well developed and those who were still
struggling in their practice.

When the citta ‘converged’
into calm, some monks traveled psychically to the
heavenly realms, touring celestial mansions until
dawn; and only then did the citta return to the
physical body and regain normal consciousness.
Others traveled to the realms of hell and were
dismayed by the pitiful condition of the beings they
saw, enduring the results of their kamma. Some
visited both the heavenly abodes and the hells to
observe the great differences between them: one
realm was blessed with joy and bliss while the other
was in the depths of despair, the beings there
tormented by a punishment that seemed to have no
end. Some monks received visits from ethereal beings
from various planes of existence –
the heavens, for instance, or the terrestrial devas.
Others simply experienced the varying degrees of
calm and happiness coming from the attainment of
samãdhi. Some investigated, using wisdom to divide
the body into different sections, dissecting each
section to bits, piece by piece, then reducing the
whole lot to its original elemental state. There
were those who were just beginning their training,
struggling as a child does when it first learns to
walk. Some could not make the citta attain the
concentrated state of calm they desired and wept at
their own incompetence; and some wept from deep joy
and wonder upon hearing Ãcariya Mun discuss states
of Dhamma they themselves had experienced. There
were also those who were simply like a ladle in a
pot of stew: although submerged there, it doesn’t
know the taste of the stew, and even manages to get
in the cook’s
way. This is quite normal when many different people
are living together. Inevitably, both the good and
the bad are mixed in together. A person having
effective mindfulness and wisdom will choose to keep
only those lessons which are deemed to be really
useful
– lessons essential to
skillful practice. I regret I cannot guarantee my
own skillfulness in this matter. In fact, it’s
a problem we all face occasionally, so let’s
pass on and not worry about it.

On his second trip, Ãcariya Mun
remained teaching in the Northeast for many years.
Normally, he did not remain in the same place for
more than a single rains retreat. When the rainy
season was over, he wandered freely in the mountains
and forests like a bird burdened only by its wings,
contented to fly wherever it wishes. No matter where
it lands in its search for food –
a tree, a pond, or a marsh –
it is satisfied and simply leaves all behind to fly
off with no lingering attachment. It doesn’t
think that the trees, bark, fruit, ponds, or marshes
belong to it. Like a bird, the monk who practices
Dhamma, living in the forest, leads a life of
contentment. But it’s
not easy to do, for people are social animals who
enjoy living together and are attached to their
homes and property. Initially, he feels a lot of
resistance going out and living alone as Ãcariya Mun
did all his life. It is sort of like a land animal
being dragged into the water. Once his heart has
become closely integrated with Dhamma, however, the
opposite is true: he enjoys traveling by himself and
living alone. His daily routine in every posture（姿勢？心境？）
remains entirely his own, his heart unencumbered by
disturbing preoccupations. That leaves Dhamma as his
preoccupation –
and Dhamma promotes only contentment. The monk who
is occupied solely with Dhamma has a heart that’s
cheerful and wonderfully content. He is free from
the kind of hindrances which cause dullness or
confusion; he is empty of all defiling
preoccupations. He basks in a full-fledged, natural
inner peace, never having to worry that it might
alter or diminish in any way. This is known as
akãlika Dhamma: Dhamma which exists beyond space and
time. It exists in the heart that has completely
transcended conventional reality,20 the source of
all deception. Ãcariya Mun was one well-gone;21 one
completely contented in all his activities. Coming
and going, sitting, standing, walking, or lying down
–
he remained completely contented. Although he led
his disciples along this path, relatively few of the
monks reached a high level of Dhamma. Yet even this
small number is of great benefit to people
everywhere.

WHEN ÃCARIYA MUN led his disciples on
almsround he took various animals along the way as
objects of contemplation, and combining them with
his inner Dhamma, he skillfully taught the monks who
were with him. They clearly heard his every word.
This was his way of teaching his disciples to be
aware about the laws of kamma, in that even animals
must receive the results of their actions. He would
just point out an animal they came across as an
example. Ãcariya Mun insisted that animals should
not be looked down upon for their lowly birth. In
truth, animals have reached their time in the
perpetual cycle of birth and death, experiencing the
results of a past kamma. So it is with human birth
as well. In fact, both animal life and human life
consist of a mixture of pleasure and pain, each
living according to the consequences of their own
individual kamma. In one respect, Ãcariya Mun
brought up the subject of animals such as chickens,
dogs, or cattle simply out of compassion for their
plight. In another respect, he wanted to make others
understand the variations in the consequences of
kamma, indicating that –
just as we have been brought to human birth by
certain types of kamma –
we too have passed through uncountable previous
births of all sorts. Finally, he reflected aloud
upon the very mysterious nature of those things that
are responsible for birth as an animal –
things that are difficult to fathom despite their
presence in everyone. If we are unskillful in
solving these problems, they will always be a danger
to us, and we will never find a way to go beyond
them. On almost every almsround Ãcariya Mun spoke in
this manner about the animals or the people whom he
encountered along the way. Those who were interested
in investigating these themes stimulated their
mindfulness and wisdom, gaining useful ideas from
him in this way. As to those who were not
interested, they did not gain any benefit. Some
probably wondered who he was talking about, since
the monks had moved on by then and the animals he
spoke about were no longer present.

IN SOME OF THE NORTHEAST PROVINCES,
Ãcariya Mun would give Dhamma instructions to the
monks late at night on special occasions. Visible to
Ãcariya Mun, terrestrial devas gathered at a
respectful distance and listened to his talks. Once
he became aware of them he called off the meeting
and quickly entered samãdhi, where he talked
privately to the devas. Their reticence on those
occasions was due to the profound respect they had
for monks. Ãcariya Mun explained that devas of all
levels were careful to avoid passing by the monks’
dwellings on the way to see him late at night. Upon
arriving they circled around Ãcariya Mun three times
before sitting down in an orderly fashion. Then the
leader
– devas of every plane
have a leader whom they obey with great deference
–
would announce the realm from which they came and
the aspect of Dhamma to which they wished to listen.
Ãcariya Mun would return their greetings and then
focus his citta on that aspect of Dhamma requested
by the devas. As this Dhamma arose within, he began
the talk. When they had comprehended the Dhamma that
he delivered, they all said “sãdhu”
three times, a sound that echoed throughout the
spiritual universe. This exclamation was heard by
everyone with celestial hearing, but not by those
whose ears were like the ‘handles
on a pot of soup’.

When his discourse on Dhamma ended,
the devas again circumambulated him three times,
keeping him on their right, and then returned to
their realms in an elegant fashion –
very different from we humans. Not even Ãcariya Mun
and his monks could emulate their graceful
movements; for there’s
a great difference between the grossness of our
bodies and the subtle refinement of theirs. As soon
as the deva guests retreated to the edge of the
monks’
area, they floated up into the air like pieces of
fluff blown by the wind. On each visit they
descended in the same manner, arriving outside the
monks’
living area and then walking the remainder of the
way. Always very graceful in their movements, they
never spoke making a lot of noise the way humans do
when going to see an ãcariya they revere. This is
probably due to the refined nature of their
celestial bodies, which restrict them from behaving
in such a gross manner. Here is an area in which
human beings can be considered superior to devas
–
talking loudly. Devas are always very composed when
listening to Dhamma, never fidgeting restlessly or
showing any conceit that could disturb the speaking
monk.

Ãcariya Mun usually knew beforehand
when the devas would be arriving. For instance, if
they were planning to come at midnight, by early
evening he was aware of it. On some occasions he had
to cancel a scheduled meeting with the monks for
that evening. At the appropriate hour Ãcariya Mun
left his walking meditation path and sat entering
samãdhi until the time approached for the devas to
come. He then withdrew his citta up to the access
level, sending out the flow of his citta to see if
they had arrived. If they had yet to arrive, he
continued with his samãdhi practice before sending
his citta out again to check. Sometimes, the devas
had already arrived or were just in the process of
arriving. At other times, he had to wait, continuing
his samãdhi practice for some time before they came.
On rare occasions, when he knew that they would be
arriving late –
like at one, two, or three a.m. –
he would practice for a while and then take a rest,
getting up to ready himself just before the devas
were expected to arrive.

Gatherings of devas who came to see
Ãcariya Mun did not happen very often nor in very
large numbers while he lived in the Northeast. They
came only infrequently to listen in on his talks to
the monks. But when they did, he would dismiss the
monks as soon as he became aware of their presence,
entering quickly into samãdhi to expound on Dhamma
for the devas’
benefit. After he finished and the devas had
departed, he would lie down to rest, arising in the
morning as usual to continue his normal routine of
practice. Ãcariya Mun considered receiving devas a
special responsibility. Since honoring one’s
promises is very important to them, he was always
careful to be punctual. They were likely to be
critical of a monk who missed an appointment
unnecessarily.

Discussions between devas and monks
are carried on entirely in the universal language of
the heart, bypassing the multitude of conventional
languages used by human beings and other types of
animals. Arising from the citta, the substance of
the inquiries turns into questions in the language
of the heart which the inquiring individual clearly
understands as if they were words in conventional
language. Each word or phrase of the respondent
emanates directly from the heart, so the questioner
in turn understands the reply perfectly well. In
fact, the language of the heart directly conveys the
true feelings of the speaker, eliminating the need
for explanations to clarify further, as might be
required in conventional languages. Verbal
communication is also a mechanism of the heart; but,
its nature is such that spoken words often do not
reflect the heart’s
true feelings, so mistakes are easily made in
communicating its true intent. This incongruity will
remain so long as conventional language is used as a
surrogate medium for the heart’s
expression. Since people are unfamiliar with the
language of the heart, their hearts cannot avoid
using normal speech as a mechanism to facilitate
communication, even though it’s
not very accurate in expressing the heart’s
true meaning. There is no possible way to solve this
common dilemma –
unless people learn the heart’s
own language and expose its mysteries. Ãcariya Mun
was extremely proficient in all matters pertaining
to the heart, including the skills needed to train
others to become good people. The rest of us, though
we are quite capable of thinking of these things for
ourselves, insist on going around borrowing from
others. That is, we tend to constantly travel from
place to place studying under one teacher and then
another. Even then, we fail to properly safeguard
what we’ve
learned, letting it slip through our grasp by
forgetting what the teacher said. Thus we are left
virtually empty-handed. The things we do not forget
or let drop are our habitual failings: a lack of
mindfulness, wisdom, and contemplative skill.
Lacking the very qualities of Dhamma which instill a
sense of hope in our lives, we are constantly
disappointed in whatever we do in life.

ÃCARIYA MUN’S
OWN MEDITATION practice, as well as his teaching
duties, continued to progress smoothly, any undue
disturbances having long since passed. Wherever he
went he brought a refreshing calm and serenity with
him. Monks and novices everywhere respected and
revered him. As soon as the laity in an area heard
of his arrival, they were delighted and rushed to
pay him their respects with heart-felt devotion. A
case in point is Ban Thum village in the district of
Tha Khek where both Ãcariya Mun and Ãcariya Sao
resided at one time or another. Shortly before
Ãcariya Mun arrived, the entire village began
suffering from smallpox. The villagers were overcome
with joy at the sight of Ãcariya Mun’s
arrival, running out of their homes to welcome him
and begging him to remain as their refuge. So in
place of the spirits the whole village had been
worshipping, Ãcariya Mun had them take refuge in the
Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha. He guided them in the
correct way to practice, such as paying daily homage
to the Buddha and performing morning and evening
chanting, and they gladly followed his instructions.
As for Ãcariya Mun, he performed a kind of internal
spiritual blessing to help them; and the results
were strange and marvelous to witness. Before his
arrival, many people died each day from the
smallpox. But from his arrival onwards, no one else
died; and those who were infected quickly recovered.
More than that, no new instances of the disease
occurred, which astounded the villagers who had
never seen or imagined such a miraculous reversal of
circumstances. As a result, the community developed
enormous faith in and devotion to Ãcariya Mun which
have persisted undiminished through each generation
to the present day. This includes the local
monastery’s
present-day abbot, who has a deep respect for
Ãcariya Mun. He always raises his joined palms in
homage before beginning to speak about him.

Incidents such as this were made
possible by the power of Dhamma in Ãcariya Mun’s
heart which radiated forth to give comfort and
happiness to the world. Ãcariya Mun said that he set
aside three times each day to extend loving kindness
to all living beings. He would do this while sitting
in meditation at midday, before retiring in the
evening, and after rising in the morning. In
addition to that, there were many times during the
day when he sent loving kindness out specifically to
certain individuals. When radiating all-encompassing
loving kindness, he did so by focusing his citta
exclusively inward and then directing the flow of
his citta to permeate throughout all the worlds,
both above and below, in all directions without
interruption. At that time his citta had the power
to extend its aura of brilliance to all worlds:
limitless, all-pervasive, and brighter than a
thousand suns –
for there is nothing brighter than a heart that’s
entirely pure. The unique properties emanating from
a citta of such purity brighten the world and imbue
it with peacefulness in an indescribable and
wondrous way. A citta having absolutely no
impurities possesses only the cool, peaceful
qualities of Dhamma. A compassionate, kindhearted
monk with an absolutely pure heart can expect
protection and reverential devotion from people and
devas wherever he stays, while members of the animal
kingdom feel no fear or danger in his presence. His
citta constantly sends forth a gentle compassion to
all beings everywhere without bias –
much like rain falling evenly over hills and valleys
alike.